We will always have
pariahs and darlings,
wars and rumors of wars,
plenty of old hatchets to exhume
and soft centers to exploit.
I’d rather contemplate
the spaces between raindrops,
marvel at how the daylily
knows just when to open
and close its tiny window,
acknowledge the silence of honey dripping onto a teaspoon,
or enjoy those subtle arcs
that show around your eyes
every time you smile.
